The Road to Hell
by Deathcrest
Summary: For the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Loki-centric narration.


**Disclaimer: Thor belongs to Marvel. Sad.**

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><p><em>"For the road to hell is paved with good intentions."<em>

I'm not someone who other people want to be with.

Honestly, you're the only one that I can call friend.

Maybe because you're my brother and that automatically makes you my friend.

Maybe it's also because you're always friendly. You, with your shining blue eyes, gold flaxen hair and that charming grin, could easily find better friends.

Better friends than I, I suppose. Who would ever befriend the green-eyed booklover that couldn't even lift a sword without the aid of magic?

When we were young, you used to hold my hand and we would run through the gardens, laughing like there was nothing in the world but the two of us.

Our parents would welcome us back with nothing save the happy expressions on their faces, where judgment and favoritism was none in sight.

It was like there was nothing in the world but us.

Perhaps it was...during that time.

Yet, when we grew older, when father and mother began to call more for you than they did for me, when you began to slowly leave me for Sif and the Warriors Three, when that tight connection between us began to crack, the distance between us slowly began to lengthen.

It hurt. It really did.

You were always there by my side, even when I acted condescending to you in terms of education and magic. You asked me what I was reading, why it was important and how does it relate to the other books I've read, even when you don't understand the answers I give. All because you wanted to show that you care.

You were always there when I practiced my magic, when many months of studying paid off with the success of one complex spell, when I whimpered quietly to myself as you slowly treated a burn or a scratch from a stray and unstable spell.

You were there and I was happy for it.

But when you began to pick up Mjolnir, you began to leave me in the dark.

As much as I tried to say, to feel, otherwise, it felt like a punch to the gut when you preferred the company of your warrior friends than the company of your one quiet, lonely, small brother who only wanted someone to talk to.

You were the world to me. Yet, it seems, I wasn't the world to you.

It was numbing to be alone. The hurt would grow and dig deeper as day turned to night and I blew the flame of the candle off, disappointed that you, once again, did not show up for our routine studying, even though it was _I_ who did most of the studying.

I had questioned myself: what was wrong me that repulsed you so? What wrong had I done that made you flee at the mere sight of me?

Was I really that repulsive? Was I really that…_unnatural_? Was it because I had magic and that made me sort of a freak?

I tried to repair that broken bridge between us, tried to salvage what love was left for me, for us. I did all to get that: I hurt, I lied, I deceived, I begged, I bargained. All because what we had; what we shared had been the most cherished thing I had ever held.

This world could have burned to ashes and our closeness, our connection, would have taken a far higher priority.

But everything was all for naught. All my efforts backfired on me. You began to avoid me more and more as each day passes, as the hurt and pain grew more in my heart, as the loneliness began to fester. Even Mother and Father began to pick you, choose you, over me.

Many years ago, it would have been the two of us. Now, it's only you that Mother and Father shower with love and attention, and I was left to hide in your shadow.

So I changed tactics. My silent cries for you went unheard, so I hid them in the forms of cruel taunts, jabs and insults. Every hurt expression you sent me for every time that I called you an idiot in front of our parents and friends hurt and pleased _me_.

I never wanted to be the cause of your pain but, at last, you were finally beginning to _see_ me, to notice me.

Finally, I had gotten what I wanted. Even if the cost was your trust, your love.

I had already lost it, hadn't I? Your arms no longer offered the security and the warmth and the comfort that it did all those years ago. Why should I go look for love in you when, clearly, you no longer love me, need me, want me.

So, yes, I hated you, insulted you, made every moment you spend with me an inconceivable torture. I did that all, yes.

Why?

So that you would finally feel what it was like to be _me_, to be hated by everyone when all you did was be yourself. Yes, that had been my life under your shadow, dear brother. Now, you finally get to experience it, to cringe in the darkness and gloom of it.

You will feel the utter loneliness of it, the utter desolation. The sun will no longer shine for you, for its light will be a source of abhorrence for you.

Yes, you will feel what I have felt…and maybe then…just maybe…you will love me again.


End file.
